


Welcome Back

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [188]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Flirting, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Stood Up By a Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Bucky's date doesn't show up. The barista takes notice.





	Welcome Back

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: you got stood up on a date at the coffee shop i work in here let me get you a drink on the house. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

Bucky gave it a full 45 minutes before he gave in to the sinking dread of rejection, the soft sink at the center of his gut that said _what the hell were you thinking?_ He sighed, propped his chin in his hand, and gave up any pretense of not giving a fuck to which he’d clung. Three texts, no response, and dusk now faded to dark? Yeah, it was official: he’d been stood up.

“Something else I can get you?”

The coffee bar guy--barista?--was standing in front of him, looking both professionally attentive and annoyingly concerned.

“No,” Bucky said. “Yeah, no. I’m fine.”

That got him a blond eyebrow pitched high. “You sure?”

“You trying to upsell me another mochachino?” The words came out harsher than he meant.

“No. Just--forgive me for saying so, but you kind of look like the opposite of fine, frankly.” The guy nodded at the empty stool on Bucky’s right, the one he’d folded his coat onto as soon as he’d sat down. “Your friend didn’t show up, huh?”

“God, you’re nosy.”

A shrug, a little good-natured blush. “Usually it’s a plus. Good for a bigger tip, anyway. I worked in a real bar for years and years, while I was in school. A couple of questions to a lonely patron usually meant another couple of bucks tucked under their empties at the end of the night.”

Bucky felt his Irish itching. “So I’m lonely, huh?”

The barista spread his hands, the bar mop in his hand waving in a kind of surrender. “You see anybody else here? Six o’clock on a Saturday and you’re staring down milk foam while everybody else is at the game getting good and liquored up or in a sports bar doing the same.”

“Hey--!”

“That plus the fact that you’ve been waiting in vain for somebody who it was clear a half an hour ago wasn’t gonna show up and yeah, I’d say you’re lacking in the company department, my friend.”

Ok, Bucky couldn’t fault the guy’s logic. Or observational skill. “Why aren’t you at the game, then? Who’d you piss off to pull this shitkicker of a shift?”

The guy grinned, a big, full-faced affair. “Nobody. I hate football. And I’m not too keen on getting wasted these days. Like I said, spent too much time in bars watching hard-luck cases like you try to drown their sorrow in watered-down drinks.”

Bucky found his lips twitching. “You watered down my $5 coffee? Kid, I oughta report you.”

“Who the hell are you calling a kid?”

“You, since I don’t know your name.”

The guy dropped the mop and scrubbed his hands on his apron, stuck his left out towards Bucky. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

Bucky felt a flash of surprise as he clasped Steve’s skinny fingers, squeezed hard at the guy’s surprisingly strong grip. “Bucky Barnes. How’d you know not to--?”

“The way you hold it,” Steve said. “You sort of cradle it against you, like you’re afraid it’s gonna fall off. A buddy of mine lost a leg in Afghanistan. He holds his bottom half the same way, if that makes any sense.”

“Oh.”

Steve cocked his head, his bangs tumbling over his eyes. “Would you rather not talk about it?”

“No,” Bucky said, “no, no. It’s fine. Most people, ah--they try to pretend it’s not there.”

“How long have you had it?”

“About a year, give or take.”

“What happened?”

“Training accident. I was leading my guys through a pre-deployment exercise and an MRAP--a big-ass armored vehicle--rolled. Pinned my arm underneath.”

“Jesus.”

“Worst night of my life. I didn’t even pass out. Remember the whole goddamn thing.”

He heard Steve suck in a breath. “Oh, man.”

“A few weeks later, they introduce me to this, and well.” He flexed his left arm, felt the strange disconnect of seeing his fingers move without really being able to feel it. “It’s been a love-hate thing every since.”

“Is it hard to be back?”

“Back where?”

“In the real world. Planet Civvie, my friend Sam calls it. He’d been in the Army ten years before what happened happened and he says it’s been a bitch to adjust.”

“How long’s he been out?”

“Mmmm, a couple three years, I think. Maybe closer to four.”

Bucky chuckled ruefully. “I'm still counting in months. And he’s right: some days, it’s still like waking up in a different galaxy.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Can you?”

“Mmm, a little, maybe. My dad was career Army. Retired not long after Desert Storm.” Steve’s mouth softened, downcast. “When I was a kid it was all I wanted, to follow in his footsteps.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Those blond eyebrows went up again. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you really wanted--”

Steve sighed. “Let’s just say that genetics weren’t in my favor. Legacy goes a long way, but so does chronic asthma and anemia and a whole host of other bullshit I hadn’t gotten under control at 18.”

Bucky squinted at the thin shoulders, the slim chest; slender, he might be, but that handshake suggested there was steel layered under the kid’s matchstick frame. “Eh,” he said, “you look fine to me.”

“Ten years and a lot of meds later, sure. But I still can’t bulk up enough to make Uncle Sam happy.” He shrugged. “And my mule head was stuck on infantry or nothing, so, here I am.”

“Ah, a stubborn man. I can respect that.” Bucky’s lips twitched. “I’ve been known to be a jackass a time or two.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re still waiting for someone who’s clearly not gonna show up?”

“Tsk tsk,” Bucky said. “Careful. That’s you eating into your tip, Rogers. You wanna come out of tonight with something to show for it, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, “damn right I do.” He leaned against the back of the bar and gave Bucky an _I dare you_ grin. “But screw the tip. Take me to dinner.”

“Say what?”

“You’re dressed for a date, aren’t you? So take me on one.”

Oh, hell. Bucky bit back a smirk. The _stones_ on this guy. “What makes you think I’d want to do that?”

Steve’s eyes, backyard pool blue, they lit right into his. “Because I’m a hell of a lot more fun than whatever asshole you’ve been waiting for. Grindr?”

“Tinder,” Bucky said. “Is there a difference?”

Steve laughed, this low delighted sound that made Bucky’s gut curl into a happy, warm ball. “Oh, Bucky Barnes,” Steve said. “Welcome back to Planet Civvie, my friend.”  



End file.
